


Watching

by Rozel



Category: The Professionals
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozel/pseuds/Rozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just sitting . . . watching . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching

Usual Disclaimer  
I don’t own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.  
I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.

WATCHING

I often watched Ray as he slept.

It had become a ritual for me after we made love.

He lay there, sated and sleepy, and I’d hold him until he fell asleep . . . that first hour when sleep finds depths for your soul to rest, your body to recuperate and your mind to be still. Then I would slip out of bed and sit in an armchair by the window, watching him by the dim glow of the security light in the corridor, or if I was lucky, by moonlight.

I’d watch as his face fell into repose, the stress and strain leaching away, leaving him looking much younger than his thirty odd years. His eyes, so green and twinkling when he was awake were hidden behind the thin delicate skin of eyelids. His brows, straight and slanted upwards, gave him a vaguely Slavic look. His mouth, so beautifully shaped just asked to be lightly kissed as he slept. The off kilter shape of his face, caused when his dad broke his cheekbone in a drunken fight, gave him a strange, ethereal beauty, often at odds with the look he gave when faced with gunmen, terrorists, drug smugglers or death.

I’d watch as he swept the covers away from his body, exposing his chest, and the silver chain which he never, ever removed. I’d watch the small pulse at the base of his neck beating gently, the chain lying entangled at his throat, rising and falling. I’ve never asked him why he refuses to remove it – such a question would be unwelcome. 

I noticed the nipples slightly raised as the cold night air touched his skin and the covering of hair across his chest, which meandered down his body, past his belly, before disappearing under the sheet.

I’d notice the gentle swell of his manhood outlined by the light covering, and smile to myself as I recalled his energy and delight in the act of lovemaking, the culmination of which caused him to shout with pleasure, uncaring of who heard.

I also saw the reminders of his life etched on his body: the silvered scars near his heart, a gilded spider resting among his chest hair. The faint line across his bicep, left by a desperate man armed with a knife; the small pucker on his thigh, a reminder that you never could trust the Russians.

I’d watch as he murmured and fidgeted, sometimes throwing his limbs akimbo, other times curling up and pulling the covers over his head. I’d hear the snuffling and muttering that went on, particularly after a mission, when his unconscious self was trying to make sense of his actions, and the actions of those about him.

Then I’d watch that period when Ray moved into another realm of sleep. When he was calm and relaxed. His body appeared weightless under the sheet. He was immoveable. I watched as the sheet settled around him, outlining his narrow hips and long legs, keeping him safe from the chill every night brings.

I’d think about his past lovers, not caring whether they had been a one night stand or lasted longer. They didn’t matter. They were forgotten. Even those who’d tried to change him; I remember how Ann Holly wanted to transform this gently wild man into a tame pet, and Mia, the pagan woman who’d shown him a path he still secretly followed – all had gone, leaving Ray with experiences and knowledge which made him what he was.

And me? Am I Sally, or Betty, or another of his past loves? Am I Bodie? That is for you to decide. I know I am Ray’s.


End file.
